


Sons of Efrafa: U Methrah Efrafa

by ubernoner



Series: The Sons of Efrafa [3]
Category: Alternate History - Fandom - Fandom, Watership Down - Richard Adams, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 03:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19039915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubernoner/pseuds/ubernoner
Summary: Every story has a beginning. This is the story of how the Polis of Efrafa was founded.





	Sons of Efrafa: U Methrah Efrafa

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Sons of Efrafa: U Methrah Efrafa

 

**Ephraim**

 

Ephraim looked across the plain of Issus with a critical eye. The coast here was almost childishly easy to defend, and indeed it was; looking over Darius’ army he could see Alexander’s command set up on one of the ridges that almost flowed into the sea. Below were what he assumed to be rank after rank of Macedonian archers, and at the base of the ridge were the Phalanxes of Corinthian horse and Minoan auroch Hoplites. The seaward flank was capped by a legion of goat and sheep Peltast light infantry from Agriana. Noticeably absent were the 5000 chariots, though the battle worn hare could hear them booming faintly from the seaward flank. He surmised Alexander had them behind the ridge, and the placement of the Peltasts was to allow them swift access to the field once he felt the Purrsians were where he wanted them. All things considered, the Macedonian Ibex had expertly deployed his 40,000 soldiers.

 

By contrast, Ephraim's own King Darius had set up a grand parade. In the front in a series of phalanxes were the Lycans, a mercenary force of wolves driven off of Crete by the Minoans. They had all but volunteered their services for the chance to kill aurochs. Behind them were the Nemean Immortals in one enormous formation, flanked on either side by an equal number of light infantry spear-lions from Babylion. They stretched the entire width of the plain and would be an imposing force to face on open ground. On the Plain of Issus however, they were only able to stand since, if they were to advance, the mountains to the west and the Aegean to the east would crush the formations against one another. Behind them were Darius III and his entourage of Purrsian nobles and generals atop their chariots, less Ephraim himself. Behind them were the red deer archers from Thrace, and then the Ionian sheep and goat Peltasts. Finally, there were the Hrairlion and Hrayfa of Ephraim. 

 

For the first time in his life, Ephraim was happy with the disdain Darius felt towards the hares. Their sheer numbers made the absence of the 1,000 Cavalry and 5,000 light infantry hares sent away to protect the Hrairlot un-noticeable by Darius. The Purrsian forces mirrored their Emperor; none ever considered what was beneath them to be anything but beneath them. This allowed 20,000 of the Hrairlion to openly make their way into the Ionian and Thracian formations and still leave him a reserve of 15,000 hares to support his cavalry. The Hrayfa themselves were now divided into five units of 2,000, with two of those to be held in reserve. His Hrairlion, the Thousand Lions, every single one knew the plan, knew their goals, knew the consequences and knew what they fought for. So there he sat, waiting for Darius to give the signal for his own destruction. 

 

Darius threw his head back and roared. The cry was taken up by his entourage, and then by the 30,000 lions before him. They were joined by the howling of the Lycans. This was the signal. All at once, the Thracians and Ionians dropped to the ground as if struck by Inle-Rah himself as the Hrairlion slashed their Achilles and Hamstring tendons. The din of Darius’ ego drowned out their dying screams. Once the path was cleared, the Hrayfa charged forward, one each unit making for the rear of the Babylions, while Ephraim and his cohort bore down on Darius.  

 

**Darius**

 

The sun rose over the sea, to shine through unblemished skies upon the glory that was the Purrsian host. Darius looked out over his army with pride. The Immortals and Spear Lions filled the plains from mountains to sea. There was no place for the Macedonian’s pitiful force to maneuver, nowhere for it to go except scurrying through the clefts of the rocks or into the waters of the Aegean. Glancing to his left, his kinsmem, powerful lions all, stood tall in their chariots, awaiting his word.

 

He caught a glimpse behind him of the Thracian archers, their bows able to launch an arrow as long as a goat was tall. Behind them were the Ionian Peltasts. The goats and sheep from western Anatolia were not the hardiest of mammals, but their presence would keep the Thracians from cowardice or mischief, while their frail temperaments were insulated from the battle by the bulk of the force. A flash of bronze denoted the Hrayfa and that upstart hare, Ephraim. That misbegotten people had long since outlived their purpose. Even now they cowered around the feet of his troops. Once he had dealt with this usurper Alexander he intended to put the lot of those Hrair in their proper place: in a roasting fire.

 

Looking back across the plain he saw the loose and ragged force before him, and no sign of the charioteers of which Ephraim had spoken. The timorous nature of the Macedonian forces had shown itself through, since it seemed as though every chariot had fled the field before the might of Purrsia. All that truly remained of concern were the Corinthian and Minoan Hoplites; he would let the Lycans spend themselves against their shields, then shatter them with his Immortals. He would do this, if any remained after the great Roar. 

 

A glance at his cousin showed the same conviction, the same righteous fire gifted to the Nemean lions by Ahura Mazda. It was time to remind the world that only one species was destined to rule. He tilted his head back and roared to the sky, his voice soon joined by tens of thousands as their cry rent the very heavens. Darius could almost hear the pained cries of sheep and goats falling before his mighty host, and smell the blood of the slain. 

 

After a minute, he lowered his head to gaze upon the fear he had wrought, but was puzzled to see that not only were Alexander’s force still there and still in good order, but also the Hoplites appeared to be advancing. The Agrianian Peltasts on the seaward flank moved behind the auroch phalanxes, and chariots began pouring from around the ridge upon which Alexander had perched himself. 

 

His confusion turned to contempt; if Alexander truly wanted to die in battle, Darius would more than graciously grant his wish. He signalled to the lion commander of the Thracians to strike down the opposing chariots and waited for the carnage. And waited, and then turned to look to his kin. There was a wrongness about the field behind him, and when he turned fully he saw not the vast array of auxiliary troops, but a corpse field writhing with small shapes moving to the flanks, like sand trickling through gravel. Bearing down upon him and his fellow commanders were Ephraim and his Hrayfa. They gave no cry as they rode over the dead with couched lances. Two like units bore down on the Babylions on either flank, while a commotion to the south signalled the Macedonian Chariot force crashing into the Lycans. As he turned fully to face the treacherous hares, he saw Ephraim himself leaping from his saddle, spear poised to strike.

 

**Alexander**

 

Alexander looked at the force amassed on the field in front of him. Aside from the presence of Thracian archers and the Lycan Phalanxes, everything was just wrong. The Immortals were pinned between two equally sized units of light spear mammals with no room to maneuver, their commanders had no sense of the whole battlefield in their current position, the entirety of Darius’ cavalry were at the very back of the formation with no way to move to the front, and for the Thracians to be of any use the whole army would need to advance. As long as Alexander stayed his forces, Darius would have to come to him.

 

He just needed Darius to advance his troops 500 paces or so, and the shape of the battlefield would press his light infantry flanks into the Immortals and bog the whole formation down. From there, he could have the Minoan Phalanxes press the seaward flank while the Corinthians rushed the mountain flank. As long as the Immortals remained in the center to protect Darius, the entire army would be trapped and he would have the entire field for his Charioteers and Peltasts to maneuver and avoid Thracian fire. He just had to keep the damnable light cavalry off the field; the Purrsian Hell-Lions were notorious for ignoring losses, even those of their commanders, to secure their goals.

 

The lions of the army began to roar as one. It was an impressive, if meaningless display. His troops were battle hardened and wouldn’t be routed by something like a little noise. Once the roaring stopped, Darius would advance his army and Alexander could...He was stunned for just a moment as Darius’ entire rear, save the Hell-Lions, fell as if smote by the gods. Alexander would not let this moment slip his grasp. Gathering himself, he called the advance and ordered the charioteers forward to wipe out the Lycans. He and his Companion Cavalry were moving to the battlefield when he caught sight of two companies of the Hell-Lion Cavalry smash into the Babylion spears from the rear to frightening effect. A third company bore down on Darius and his commanders.

 

By the time Alexander had joined the battle, the Purrsian army was in complete disarray. His cavalry and light infantry had swiftly swept the Lycans from the field. Once that was done, as per his battle plan, the Corinthians had assaulted the mountain flank while the Minoans had charged the seaward. Trapped between Alexander’s forces and the relentless assault of the Hell-Lions, the Babylion flanks had crumpled. That left only Darius, his commanders, and the Immortals. That storried unit, fully ten thousand lions strong, was now winnowed to half its original strength. Those that remained were either encircling Darius, or franticly attacking the ground, as if some chthonian evil were bedeviling them from below. 

 

Alexander formed his Companions and the charioteers and pressed a charge against the remainder of the Immortals. To their credit, the Purrsian elite didn’t route, but surrounded Darius and made for the Eastern Hills. It was notable that of the cohort of Purrsian nobility, only Darius’ chariot remained in the retinue.

 

Alexander rallied his forces rather than waste lives trying to chase Darius off the field. At the moment, he had greater concerns, as the Hell-Lions began forming up across from him. He was slightly alarmed by the shear number of hares trickling out of the carnage. The sun was high over the field before they had finished, with five companies of cavalry and two units of nearly equal, uncountable numbers of hare Gymnetes armed with stiff cloaks and curved bronze short swords. One cavalry hare began riding forward to the center of the field. Alexander squared himself and rode forward to meet the Hell-Lion commander.

 

**Campion**

 

Campion charged his Hrayfa company into the rear of the seaward legion of spear lions, while Vervain led the mountain company and Ephraim charged Darius himself. He caught a glimpse of Ephraim leaping at the Achaemenid king just before his company slammed into their foe. The young lions were wholly fixated on the rank after rank of armored aurochs marching towards them, and so did not even glance to their rear. Hundreds fell silently as barbed Hrayfa lances pierced their backs and lungs. The van of the column split to open a wedge and the rest of the company poured into the Babylion unit's now gaping wound. As lances were left in their victims, the hares turned to sword and mace and leapt from their ostriches to strike the heads and throats, while their mounts lashed out with bronze capped foot claws against the unarmored bellies of the lions. 

 

Though the Hrairlion continued their bloody work from below, a few of the Immortals had broken off and reformed a small cohort to escort one of the Purrsian generals. Campion glanced around and noted the Minoans had reached the Purrsian lines and had begun savaging the Babylions. He sounded his hawk-skull whistle, it’s shrill tone cutting through the din of battle. His entire Hrayfa broke off their attack and leapt to their ostriches. They gathered what spears from the fallen lions as they could and reformed to pursue the general. The sudden loss of pressure from the rear caused the Macedonian side of the line to cave in. A second shrill call on his whistle signaled for the commitment of the reserves. Hyzenthlay’s two Hrayfa companies barreled down onto the beleaguered Purrsian flanks, while Blackavar’s reserve Hrairlion rushed towards the main force of Immortals. 

 

With the reserve committed, Campion’s Hrayfa pursued the retreating general. The Immortals stopped and formed a Yonos, so called for its resemblance to a giant hedgehog. It would have been an effective tactic, had they been supported by units of Javelin or sling-equipped Peltasts. Unfortunately for the general, Darius no longer had any peltasts, and the Hrayfa were trained to break such heavy formations: Campion’s company began circling, while one squad or another would dash in. Using their lion spears, they deflected those of the Immortals and had their mounts kick the shields of the defenders. While the lions were reeling, they swiftly drew their bows and fired several arrows. From only a pace away, they could not help but strike true. Before the lions could rally, the squad would break off and rejoin the circle. Again and again they battered at the lions until only a pawful remained. The chariot’s ostriches and driver had long since been slain, so all the lions could do was use the chariot as armor. Campion dismounted and signaled for the Hrayfa to begin firing at the chariot. Once the Immortals raised their shields to block the hail, he and a squad rushed in under their guard, blades clenched in their teeth. Once inside the chariot, they swarmed around like angry hornets, lashing out at legs, then at arms as the lions collapsed, then at heads. Then all was still.

 

As Campion emerged from the chariot, he saw another group of Immortals and chariots rushing towards the mountains. In one he saw Darius, Ephraim’s barbed lance protruding from his shoulder. He considered pursuing the Purrsian King, but as he could also see the Macedonian forces forming up, he turned to the task Ephraim had left to him. He remounted, cleaned the blood from the sword Ephraim had gifted him, and rode out to meet the Macedonian king.

 

**Jacob**

 

Nick stared at his friend as Jacob finished the first part of his people's story. “Jesus, Jack; you Efrafans really don’t do things by halves.”

 

The group chuckled, though there were some aside looks at Jacob and Valerie. “If you think that’s bad Nick, you may want to cover your ears when I get to my Grandfather and the Battle of the Red Dawn of Edirne. Anyway, Campion negotiated the entry of the Hrairlion and Hrairlot into Alexander’s growing empire. It was a little embarrassing at the time, but we had no identity up to that point outside of our service to Purrsia. It wasn’t until we settled in Uchisar and named the surrounding Region Ephraim-fa after General Woundwort that we became Efrafans.”

 

“You’re leaving out the best part,  **neci umbra** .” Valerie huffed at Jacob’s puzzled look. “Like how nobody ever found  _ Stihrathrah’s _ body, and how he’s considered a Boogiemammal?”

 

Dickie leaned forward as everyone was chuckling. “It’s not that far-fetched a notion. There are a number of cultural groups in and around the Levant that consider the Woundwort plant to have mystical protective properties, and some of the occult imagery starting from around that time includes the symbol of the head of a one-eyed hare as a kind of ward.” Dickie glanced around for a moment. “Miss Aleshku, you...”

 

“Zib, please.” the vixen chided with a smile.

 

He smiled. “Zib. You don’t seem particularly surprised by all this.”

 

She settled into her tod’s arms. “My people, and my family specifically, have very close ties to the Efrafans.” Everyone looked back and forth as she smirked at Jacob.

  
The black hare shrugged. “Well, I suppose I can tell you that one; it’s the first  _ Methrah _ of my grandfather’s line, but it’s a long one so settle in.” He looked around and saw nothing but rapt attention. “Alright. This one is much,  _ much _ more recent. The sun was shining down on Cappadocia, the homeland of the Efrafan hares. One such hare was Thlayli, a burly animal so named for the unruly mop of fur on top of his head. He sat tall in the saddle while his Asian Ostrich,  _ Nildhristhol, _ fidgeted as the herd rested on the plains outside Goreme. He was  _ Hrair-lot _ , a peasant-born ostrich farmer serving under the  _ Marli-fa _ Natal Banu Vreka, who was the local Efrafan Lord.”


End file.
